


The Room

by dancey94



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Memory Palace, Mind Palace, Nightmares, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 22:38:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6302938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancey94/pseuds/dancey94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal is in every room of Will's mind palace</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ferris_Eris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferris_Eris/gifts).



> i went to church (for the first time in forever) and was so bored and so detached i tried to figure out my own mind palace and imagine a place where i would find the things i love  
> of course i found Will and Hannibal

The corridor was long and wide. There were vases and sculptures on both sides. The walls were covered in paintings and an old-fashioned wallpaper. At the end of the corridor there was a huge window which was the only source of light, since the small sconces were all turned off. The glass of the window allowed the moon to reflect on the floor, creating shadows and blurring the vision.

Will looked around in order to find a switch, which was on his right. He pushed it and the sconces lit up the space. Graham spotted plenty of doors on both sides of the corridor. They were all set opposite each other and they all looked similar. Will turned to his right and reached for the knob in the first pair. It was open, so he pushed it further to reveal the room.

It was fairly light as there was a huge chandelier set in the ceiling. Will noticed a large and heavy-looking mahogany desk with pens and pencils lying on it. There was even a quill pen and a inkpot. Will saw a bookcase matching the desk and could make out some of the titles. Most of them were in foreign languages, while the ones in English were too complicated for his taste.

Graham’s attention was focused on a scratching sound coming from the corner of the room, where another desk was set at a weird angle. By the desk there was a high stool occupied by a sandy-haired man, who was sketching something. Will instantly recognised the man and took a step closer. And another one. Until his chest was almost touching the man’s back. Will half-circled the man to face him but the man was so focused on his work, he seemed not to even register Will’s presence. Graham looked at the drawing on the desk and recognised his house in Wolf Trap.

A smile appeared on Will’s face at the warm memories of his dogs running around the house or his walks with them. And then everything just seemed to collapse. Gradually, his house was no longer his sanctuary and nothing felt real anymore.

Graham cleared his throat and his eyes shifted again at the artist’s face. “Hannibal.”

The name was barely a whisper but in such proximity the man must have heard it. He didn’t react in any way, however, and continued to work on his sketch, transfixed. His long fingers held the pencil and with surgical precision drew contours of the familiar building.

Will was about to say more but he heard music echoing through the walls. Graham glanced at Hannibal once more and then decided to follow the low tune. It was barely audible but when Graham left the room and found himself in the corridor again, he could hear the music more clearly. He thought he recognised the piece and started very softly humming the melody to try to remember what it was and when he had heard it last.

Slowly, step by step, Will moved along the corridor until he reached the place where the music was heard the most clearly. He knew the music must have come from behind another pair of dark wooden door so he reached for the knob and opened it. Inside, it was fairly dark. Only a few candles lit up the room, whose central point was a harpsichord. Hannibal was sitting by it, pressing the keyboard with his slim fingers and recreating the piece from memory. There were no notes he followed; his eyes were closed as he tried to remember the melody.

Will leant against the doorframe with his arms crossed on his chest and watched the performance. Hannibal looked peaceful and focused solely on the instrument. Will wouldn’t dare disturbing the man as he played so he waited. But the sound was not fading, the music never ceased and Will got tired of it eventually. He left the room and closed the door.

It was still middle of the night and the corridor was still lit by the sconces and the moonlight. It was new moon so the silver star was round and shining brightly. A few marks made it imperfect but Will was still impressed by the Earth’s satellite. He used to associate the moon with the Dragon and often when he looked at it, he would think and worry about the happy families, living cluelessly in their houses, leading normal lives. That was always denied to Will. And then he decided he wasn’t exactly happy with how the things turned out.

Will moved to a different door but before he opened it, he checked which ones he had already opened and counted them. He would have to mark them in some way, not to wander aimlessly and not to get lost.

The third room pervaded many great scents. Will immediately recognised the kind of meat that was heating on the oven; he had eaten it already, maybe even a few times.

It was a kitchen. It was Hannibal’s kitchen, to be precise. Will spotted the counter and the familiar wood that was covering the appliances. He would forever remember the sight of the broken plank next to the fridge, the place on the floor where he had lain, covered in blood and cut in the middle. He would forever remember the pain in his stomach and the sight of Abigail’s getting her throat cut again. Over and over.

Graham’s mouth hung open but there was no sound, only breath leaving his lungs and disappearing in the space around him. In the centre of the room there was a longish counter with infinite amounts of vegetables. There were juicy bright carrots, plenty of green leaves and roots as well as fresh round tomatoes. Everything was mirrored in the flat stainless surface of the counter.

Will blinked when he realised Hannibal was the one standing on the other side. The man had just washed his hands and grabbed a sharp steel knife. He began with peeling the tomatoes and creating nifty rosettes that would serve as decorations on the plates later. Will admired the skill and was not at all surprised when Hannibal was not paying attention to what happened around him. It was sad that Will could not initiate any contact with the man. It felt to him as if he was a ghost and, however idiotic that sounded at the time, Will started to believe he was, in fact, only a mirage or a particularly vivid memory.

All the settings he had visited so far were somewhat familiar, though Will couldn’t actually remember if he had ever heard Hannibal play any instrument. He was only aware the psychiatrist was in possession of more than one and was capable of playing them.

Graham left the kitchen and closed the door behind him, having one more glance at Lecter. Then, he decided to investigate the rest of the rooms, but in clearly established order – he would go one by one on the right and only then move on the left side, also one by one. That way he believed he would gain some clarity as to whether or not the rooms are somehow connected and chronologically set or if they’re a mixture of memories and mere ideas or images.

Will remembered which rooms he had already entered but decided to walk in again when it was their turn, just to check if they remained the same or if something changed since he last saw them.

The room behind the first door was left untouched. Hannibal was sitting there, absorbed in drawing. The sketch seemed not to progressed, though. It was like the time stopped the second Will left.

The next door revealed an elegant bedroom. All the furniture was dark and matching the master bed, which stood by the wall opposite the door. It was huge and the sheets were light, starkly contrasting with the wood. There was a large mirror above the bed and a friendly fire was burning in a few meter distance.

Will spotted a lump under the sheets on the bed and decided to investigate. He made a few steps but his nose knew before his eyes could that it was Hannibal, sleeping soundly. The man always used an expensive cologne which somewhat masked his natural and unique scent but once Will smelt it, there was no way he could ever forget it. The earthy strength and a note of masculinity. Hannibal’s posture imprinted on Will’s brain as noble and confident, his lean body always implied power and self-discipline. Lecter was a man of flesh and blood and the more sophisticated part of him often appeared as imagined and definitely feminine.

Graham came closer and had a look at the violent creature that was presently immersed in a deep sleep, harmless to anyone. It appeared almost impossible that the man could mean an imminent danger to people close to him. His greying hair and soft features as well as steady breathing, slightly louder than normal, did not seem to be an indicator of a haunted mind. Will could only think that he himself may have had similarly innocent appearance.

He looked around the room and found a chair by the wall. He pulled it up near the bed and settled in it. His legs were spread wide and head heavy. Sleep would inevitably come to him soon, too. His eyes were focused on Hannibal’s small unconscious movements and twitches, the way his chest rose and collapsed as he breathed. Then, Graham felt as his eyelids fell and shut, leaving him in complete darkness.

No more than a few second passed when Will felt something warm covering his body. His eyelids fluttered and Graham realised that Hannibal was the one who stood in front of him and tucked him in a blanket. After walking through the many rooms with Hannibal not interested in his presence, Will finally felt relieved. He reached for Lecter and placed both his palms on the man’s cheeks. “Hannibal.”

The man smiled at Will, the gesture so genuine and so full of affection that Will felt as if struck by a lightning. He could only stare into Hannibal’s irises and not care about his surroundings. He didn’t even realise where he was or that he was bleeding faintly.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Hannibal asked and covered Will’s palms with his own. Graham blinked, trying for a second to figure out if he was, in fact, only dreaming, but then he gave up and shrugged. “I need to do something about it.” Hannibal added as he glanced at Will’s cheek. Graham didn’t want to let go of the man but finally, in the corner of his eye he spotted a bed and a small room he was in. That made his arms fall and release Hannibal, who went to fetch new plasters and something to clean the wound.

Will turned his head to register his surroundings and only then remembered where he was. He remembered the story of their fight with the Dragon and their fall from the cliff. Everything became clear and he took a few deep breaths of relief. He realised he was with Hannibal now and that the man would never leave him. Nor would he ever ignore him as he did in the nightmare.

Graham stood and went to the bathroom to join Lecter. The man took care of Will’s cut cheek and checked the rest of the wounds. Everything seemed to be fine.

Graham couldn’t force himself to say anything, he only appreciated the seconds in Hannibal’s presence, forming plans and wishes for the future.


End file.
